


Collogue

by thorinoakenbutt



Series: FFXIVWrite2020 prompts [20]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alcohol, Established Relationship, Fluff, G'raha is overwhelmed, M/M, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Post-Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal, Public Display of Affection, Tumblr: FFXIVwrite2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27006898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorinoakenbutt/pseuds/thorinoakenbutt
Summary: Definition of collogue:1:  dialect : intrigue, conspire2: to talk privately : confer
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Series: FFXIVWrite2020 prompts [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918291
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Collogue

They've only been returned to the Source for a handful of days when it happens. The Scions had endured their enforced bedrest with varying degrees of acceptance - Alisaie was the most impatient to get back on her feet with rapier in hand, while Y’shtola was more content to sit quietly with a hot cup of tea cradled between her hands at any given moment. E’andhris had turned into a proper mother hen, insistently waiting hand and foot upon his whole family, though never far from G’raha Tia’s side. Even when chastised himself for not resting, the Warrior had simply climbed into bed alongside his lover, much to the embarrassment of everyone else in the infirmary. G’raha had pulled him closer, even as his cheeks burned brightly and his ears fluttered nervously. 

And so time has passed: quietly, filled to the brim with soft, domestic moments as the Scions regain their bearings and strength. Then, called home to Mor Dhona from their various posts, the Rising Stones is filled with the rest of their extended family and the quiet is banished in the wake of relieved celebration. E’andhris drags G’raha from bed to meet them all, never mind that the former Exarch has yet to accept the invitation to _join_ the Scions. 

_They’re a charming bunch_ , G’raha thinks, as he’s clapped _hard_ on the back in quick succession by the Boulder brothers. His heart feels light within his chest as he watches his beloved pounce, making an impressive attempt to lift the red haired brother - Hoary? - off his feet in a bear hug. E’andhris is in turn swept off his feet by Ochre, and the trio _roar_ in laughter. G’raha finds himself grinning, caught up in their joy at seeing each other once again - hale and whole. 

Until he turns and finds himself face to face with a rather buxom blonde hyur, eyeing him with ill concealed interest. “You must be the new Scion!” she exclaims, looping her arm through one of his with a giggle. “I’m Aenor. If you need _anything_ , just let me know - I’ll be happy to _take care_ of you.” 

G’raha’s ears pin back against his head nervously at the double entendre in her voice, and he attempts to pull himself from her grasp. “A pleasure, though I’ve...I’ve yet to accept the invitation to join the ranks of your auspicious order,” he stammers, edging closer to the roegadyn siblings. His gaze seeks out E’andhris, shocked to find his lover’s mismatched eyes already on him with something akin to _glee_ shining in their depths. He gives his best ‘ _help me_ ’ look, despairing when E’andhris’ grin simply grows in response.

“Coultenet!” the Warrior instead cries out, as a tall, robed elezen appears. He wriggles out of Ochre’s arms and succeeds this time in lifting the newcomer off of his feet in a crushing embrace. The elezen flushes, giving a sheepish though delighted laugh as he’s spun around in a circle. E’andhris places Coultenet back onto his feet and then - finally - comes to extricate G’raha from Aenor’s grip. He pulls him straight into the center of the circle the Scions have begun to form around him, wrapping his arm possessively around him, low across the back of his waist. “Everyone! I’d like you to meet G’raha Tia!” 

G’raha has to stop himself from fisting his hand in E’andhris’ shirt in alarm at the sudden focus of many eyes upon him. _This is silly_ , he thinks, _I’ve made many a public address to many more than this_. Though, of course, there is a distinct difference between adressing his subjects within the Crystarium and _this_. _This_ is E’andhris’ _family_. The very family that his beloved wants him to join. G’raha is taken aback when a cheer raises among the Scions, the crowd crushing close to welcome him into their midst. He feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes at the overwhelming feeling of the Scions' easy _acceptance_ of him. 

E’andhris beams down at him, looking the happiest G’raha thinks he’s ever seen him, and a rogue tear slips down his cheek. Mortified, G’raha scrubs his cheek furiously, then lets out the bright laugh that’s filled his lungs. “Thank you, everyone!” he cries out over the din. “It’s so lovely to meet you all, at last!” 

Soon after, someone breaks out the alcohol - G’raha is fairly certain it was Thancred, though from his place anchored to E’andhris’ side, it’s hard to focus on much more than the warm weight of his lover’s hand against his hip and the parade of faces giving the both of them well wishes. At some point, drinks are pressed into their hands and the day turns into even more of a blur from there. G’raha finds himself sitting upon a crate with E’andhris standing between his legs, leaned back against his front. He wraps his arms around the Warrior, feeling light as a feather as the effects of the spirits takes hold of him. He's content to close his crimson eyes and listen to E'andhris' voice as his beloved regales their audience with tales from Norvrandt, basking in such an impossible moment of happiness.

G’raha must have dozed off at some point, for the next thing he is aware of is Hoary’s booming voice. “ _E’andhris_! It’s been some time since our last bout. I challenge you to a duel!” G’raha raises his head sharply from the Warrior’s shoulder, disturbing E’andhris’ hand from where it had been laid against his head, stroking his hair. He blushes, feeling the warmth shoot through to his extremities, and he sees that his fellows fare little better. 

E’andhris’ cheeks are flushed from drink and his eyes are bright as he laughs. “If you think you can stand steady enough to stand against me, sure,” he says, reaching behind him to seek out G’raha’s hand. The Warrior squeezes tightly when G’raha presses his palm close, and lolls his head back to regard him. “What say you, handsome? Are you feeling awake enough to come watch me wipe the floor with Hoary?”

“Are you certain you should be casting under the influence?” G’raha asks, arching his brow even as his face heats at his lover’s half-slurred words. He lifts E’andhris’ hand to his lips to press a soft kiss against their joined fingers, only realizing after the fact that he’s done so. His gaze flits around at the Scions surrounding them to see if anyone has noticed, though they’ve already erupted into movement as they prepare to leave the Rising Stones. 

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” E’andhris responds with a wink and he turns to help G’raha off of the crate. He grasps him by the waist and lifts, leaning close as G’raha’s feet settle on the ground. E’andhris steals a deep kiss that’s over before the redhead can respond properly, and then the Warrior is whirling to fetch his staff. He laughs when he sees G’raha’s pout, and draws him near once more, his hand snaking down to give his ass a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry, I intend to find us a place later where we can... _collogue_.”

G’raha blinks twice before E’andhris’ meaning sinks in, even with his lover's ridiculous waggling eyebrows. He clings to the front of the Warrior’s shirt, giggling helplessly until he can’t breathe. “I’d like that,” he finally gasps. E’andhris gives a broad grin and bunts their foreheads together affectionately. “Now, let’s be off, before Hoary or Ochre hoist you over one of their shoulders like a sack of popotoes.”


End file.
